Choice
by Romantic Silence
Summary: It was never even a choice to begin with.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter.

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**Choice**

By Romantic Silence

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Since the day she struck a friendship with Harry Potter, she sacrificed many things for his sake. She sacrificed her peace of mind, being able to live without worry—her main concern always being Harry's safety. She sacrificed budding friendships; she had met many like-minded people in the years following her rescue from the troll, but she never forged anything beyond acquaintanceship on account of her adventures with Harry.

Most of all, Hermione sacrificed her life. Not in the sense of dying for him—although, she would gladly do so if warranted—but nearly eliminating all evidence that she ever existed. Her parents, whom she had grown distant as she continued to attend Hogwarts, no longer knew she was their daughter, her magic ridding away all memories of her from their minds.

For Harry Potter, her best friend, Hermione would give up _everything_ for him. Her devotion to him was unparalleled and transcended the normal bounds of what could be considered platonic. It was always no wonder why others thought they were together. Then when Ron abandoned them, the two of them faced the hidden depths that hid beneath the surface of their relationship. They knew there was something there between them, but they dared not act on it then. It was not because they didn't want to, but that they couldn't afford to.

It was because of that that Hermione never regretted the choices she made for him—choices motivated by her love for him (platonic or not). Not even the choice she made on one particular cold Hogsmeade night would make her regret her decisions.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had apparated into Hogsmeade. Their goal was simple: make their way into Hogwarts and find Ravenclaw's diadem, one of Voldemort's horcruxes. They all knew the risks of making such a bold move, fully aware that dark forces had taken control of both the small village and the school. But Harry was motivated, he was sure that they would find the horcrux. Hermione could not refuse him.

However, things became complicated swiftly. The Death Eaters were immediately upon them, no doubt having placed a charm to notify suspicious movement in Hogsmeade. A small skirmish consequently occurred and if it were not for the timely arrival of Aberforth Dumbledore whom had taken great risks to hide them away in his pub, Hermione was unsure if they could have survived.

But only Harry and Hermione had made it inside. Ron had been left outside. Harry wanted to charge out, find Ron and rescue him. His pleas were only stopped when they heard the Death Eaters outside cheering.

"We got Weasley," they shouted. "The blood-traitor is dead!"

Instead of the righteous fury that Hermione had come to expect from Harry, his shoulders sagged, the blood drained from his face, and he collapsed onto one of the chairs. He covered his face with his hands to hide away the tears that were falling. With a trembling voice, he asked, "How could this have happened?"

And playing the good girl that she portrayed herself as, Hermione held him in her arms, comforting him with her embrace, whispering to him gently, "It wasn't your fault, Harry."

But she knew what happened; she knew whose fault it was. It was her doing. It was Hermione that condemned Ron to death.

Everything had happened so fast. They were all running for their lives, evading curses and blasting away Death Eaters that crossed them. Having never boasted much physical abilities, Hermione lagged a little behind the two boys, making up for her shortcomings by covering their flank. She had just stunned an enemy when she saw it. Two Death Eaters emerged from the shadows from an alleyway, poised to strike down Harry and Ron.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

A jet of green was short forth from their wands, each aimed at Harry and Ron. Reality slowed for only a moment, giving Hermione time to realize that she could only save one person. It was either Harry or Ron. Though cruel as it was, Hermione had already made her choice long before she was given it. She would _always_ choose Harry.

Already sprinting, Hermione dove and pushed Harry out of harm's way, sending them both towards the ground. Harry was quick to gain his bearings, instantly retaliating against his attacker. The Death Eater was expulsed backwards, sending him into a wall with a sickening crunch. Hermione, however, fell on her side and to her horror, she was given the full viewing of Ron taking the curse straight to his chest. She turned away, not wanting to acknowledge what she had done then. It was only moments afterwards that Aberforth arrived and hurred them into the Hog's Head.

Harry had clung to her, desperate for the comfort only she could provide. Aberforth had looked at her knowingly, revealing to her that he witnessed what she had done. Hermione turned away from him and reflected her decision—that was the least she could do for Ron. She could only remember the small conversation that she had with him at Shell Cottage. Ron apologized wholeheartedly for abandoning her and Harry. He made a lot of ridiculous promises, telling her that he would never do something like that again. Ron truly cared for her. It was sweet.

And yet, despite her assurances in her mind that she cared for him too, the choice had been easy for her. If she could be truly honest, Hermione would do the same thing each time…

To this day, two decades later, Hermione still did not regret what she had done. She was married now—to Harry, unsurprisingly. It took years for Harry to reconcile what happened during the war (having lost several people he cared for), but he was fortunate to have her and the other Weasleys there for him. They never blamed Harry or Hermione for Ron's death. They blamed Voldemort and the war for taking away their son and brother. That, at least, gave Harry peace of mind.

"What are you thinking about, love?" asked Harry as he waved goodbye to their youngest son, Ron. He waved back from inside his own compartment, excited for his first year.

She smiled, taking his hand to hold. "Nothing, I was just… thinking."

"They grow up so fast, don't they?" He assumed, nodding his head over to the Hogwarts Express. "It seemed like it was yesterday that they were still in nappies."

"It would be lonely around the house now, wouldn't it?"

"I have a few ideas of how we could occupy ourselves…"

She chuckled and kissed her husband, rolling her eyes at his coy suggestion. When the Hogwarts Express began leaving the station, they turned to leave. They opted for a companionable silence instead of conversation; the two of them were tired from waking up early to help the children prepare for their departure.

Hermione was happy, truly. She had a wonderful husband and the two brought forth four beautiful, intelligent children. She did not regret any of her decisions she made long ago. But as she and Harry headed home, Hermione could not shake away a supposedly forgotten memory. It was Ron, staring at her in realization, as she landed on the ground after pushing away Harry. His expression would then change and instead of an accusatory glare, Ron appeared resigned—resigned to the fate she had given him by choosing Harry instead.

"Hermione, I'm really worried, are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Harry, you've known me for little more than quarter of a century. You know I like to think," she scolded him playfully.

Harry chuckled sheepishly. "I know, but it's been quite some time since you spaced out like that."

"I'm fine. I really am."

Hermione did not regret her choice. She was sure of it. Even if the memory of it still continued to haunt her.


End file.
